


Aftermath

by TheAntleredPolarBear



Category: The Walking Dead (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 14:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3613002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAntleredPolarBear/pseuds/TheAntleredPolarBear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slightly OOC Dilly fluff set after Starved For Help ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

To anyone who had not been in the meat locker at the time, whatever happened inside it remains a mystery. Even those who were there seemed to be unsure of exactly what has transpired; the subject was not breached by anyone on the journey back to the Motor Inn, and the four survivors were locked in a silent stupor. Once they reached home, they each retreated to their rooms without comment. They have yet to emerge.

Doug offers to take first watch, as he needs a while alone with his thoughts. As much as he enjoyed Ben’s company, he has always been a man who values solitude, and now he uses the time to speculate on the events that occurred at the St. John dairy while the two young men has been back here. All he knows for certain is that Larry is dead, Mark and the St. Johns are most likely walkers, and judging by the blood splattered across Lilly’s clothes and face, she was unhealthily close to the action. He has no intention of bringing it up with her, partly because they are not particularly close, partly because he doesn’t want to upset her, and partly because if the event was as brutal as Doug suspects it was, it may very well upset _him_ too, he thinks, as he sits atop the RV with the hunting rifle named Charlotte across his lap, and a small part of him fervently hopes she confides in someone more qualified.

It’s late, but nobody seems to want to sleep. Duck and Clementine have long since been put to bed, but those who are out in the open are milling around aimlessly, all deep in thought, and all looking unsettlingly similar to the monsters outside their pocket of relative safety. Doug turns his gaze back to the road. The string and bells he fashioned into a makeshift alarm system a few days ago provide the promise that he will hear an intruder before he sees it, and the thought brings him some level of comfort. He runs his hand over Charlotte’s barrel. While he is aware of the mechanics, he knows very little about the culture that once surrounded firearms, and he wonders vaguely if all the people who were gave their guns names and nametags. He finds himself thinking that he will have to ask Mark in the morning, before he…remembers. In that lonely moment, he realises that whatever knowledge Mark has to offer is lost to them forever.

The night is silent as a stone. Doug stifles a yawn, reluctant to do anything that might make him vulnerable to attack, or affect his senses. He listens for the tiniest sound, half expecting to hear the cracking of a twig, or the rattling breathing of a walker. He jumps spectacularly as Ben trips over a camp chair, letting out a strangled yelp as he tumbles to the floor in a tangle of overlong limbs. Doug can’t help but chuckle. That kid isn’t half a klutz.

Although the rain has passed over the Motor Inn, it has left behind an odd wet chill that pierces his body right to the bone. He wishes he has a blanket, or better yet, a cup of hot, creamy cocoa. He shakes himself mentally. The last thing he needs right now is to get distracted by delicious, warm beverages that are permanently out of the question. He watches the road as attentively as he can, given that he has been awake for around eighteen hours.

After an hour or two, Lee clambers up on top of the RV. The ladder creaks ominously beneath his feet, and he gives it a concerned look. Doug turns his tired eyes to the taller man, blinking a few times to stop them from stinging quite so badly. Lee gives him a sympathetic smile.

“How’re you doing, Doug?” he asks.

“I’m okay. Just tired, I guess,” he answers. As if to underline his point, he yawns widely. “I’ve been up since…I don’t know when. And today’s been pretty rough.”

“Go to bed. I’ll take over,” Lee replies. Doug blinks at him owlishly.

“Are you sure?” he asks. What with the hunting trip that morning, he’s sure Lee has been up for much longer than he has, and he’s been doing a lot more.

Lee sighs. “Yeah. I’m, uhh, too worked up to sleep anyway,” he explains. Doug nods. It doesn’t take a genius to work out why he’s wired.

He stands and stretches, before handing Charlotte over to Lee. The other man takes the hunting rifle and examines it with melancholy eyes. And no wonder. God knows how many shitty things he now associates that gun with. He walks across the roof of the RV, his footsteps clunking on the tin roof, and climbs onto the ladder. Just before his head descends below the level of the roof, curiosity wins out over good manners, and he speaks.

“Hey, Lee?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened today? In the meat locker?”

Lee glances up. “You sure you wanna know?”

“No. But I’m sure I have to.”

The other man sighs. “Okay. You might wanna sit down for this.”

Doug obediently re-ascends the few rungs he has climbed down and sits with his legs dangling over the side of the van. He watches Lee attentively as the History professor begins to speak. “After…dinner, The St Johns locked us up in the barn. Larry was pounding at the door, yelling. You know how he is, or was. His heart couldn’t take the strain and he collapsed. Lilly and I tried to save him, but Kenny was already convinced he was dead.”

“Oh Christ,” Doug moans, having already put the pieces into place. However, he is still shocked by what Lee says next.

“Kenny picked up a saltlick and…well, he aimed for the head.”

“Oh God.” Doug swallows the bile rising in his throat as a vivid image of Larry’s final moments fills his mind. It takes him a second to realise that neither Lee nor Lilly need to imagine what happened. “And she was right there…she…Jesus.”

“Yeah,” Lee sighs.

“What about Clementine?” he asks, hoping against hope that at least one aspect of this terrible situation can be salvaged. “She didn’t see, right?”

“I don’t know, Doug. I hope not,” he replies. “I wasn’t looking at her at the time.”

The two men sit in silence for a minute or two. While Doug is sure that it will return in full force tomorrow morning, his sleepiness has vanished, replaced by the same sort of empty sadness that he’d only felt once before; when he’d seen his uncle’s lifeless body strewn across his living room floor, bleeding from a gaping head wound inflicted from the corner of his favourite gaming laptop. He never much liked Larry, but he’d been starting to like Lilly more and more, and the idea of the young woman watching her father die in such a brutal way is enough to make a lump rise in his throat. Lee appears to have noticed his stunned silence, because he speaks again.

“I know,” he says, sadly.

“God, Lee, what happened to today?” Doug moans. “How did everything get so…?”

“I don’t know, Doug. I wish I did.” He sighs deeply. “Anyway, you should get some sleep. I’ve got this.”

Doug wants to. He really does. But Lee seems to have passed on his ability to sleep along with his story, and Doug finds himself joining the others in aimlessly wandering about the parking lot, silent and deep in thought.

He walks the circumference of the parking lot three times before he stops outside Lilly’s door. He stares at the door for a few seconds, and finds himself unable to move on in his original direction. Instead, his body turns almost involuntarily until it is facing the door. He takes a few tentative steps forwards. He has no idea what he’s going to say, or if he should say anything at all, but he knows from experience that a single kind word can be enough to comfort somebody in their darkest moments, and he is more willing to take the chance of doing something wrong than live with the consequences of doing nothing at all. He takes a deep breath, extends his arm and knocks at the door.

“Hello?” says a voice thick with tears. The golf-ball-sized lump returns to the region of Doug’s Adam’s apple, but he swallows forcefully to get rid of it.  _You don’t get to cry,_ his inner monologue furiously repeats.  _You’re not the one with the problem. You don’t getto cry._

“It’s me,” he says, and he is nevertheless surprised to hear that his voice is totally steady. “Can I come in?”

Lilly’s reply is a loud sniff, which Doug takes to mean a yes. He opens the door slowly, ready to back out at a moment’s notice if Lilly should tell him to do so. She doesn’t speak.

A group of candles on the dresser throws a flickering light across the motel room. The dark brown carpet is filthy with years of strange shoes and poor cleaning, but it is free of debris. The sheets are spread neatly across the bed. A hunting rifle lies on its side on the dresser below a landscape print of a hilly countryside. The door to the bathroom is ajar. Under the window sits a small checkers table with two chairs, only instead of the pieces, a small water bottle stands on the red and black squares.

Lilly sits on the edge of the double bed. When she sees Doug cross the threshold, she hurriedly wipes her eyes. The half-congealed blood that he now knows to be Larry’s is splattered across her face, and the tears running down her cheeks have made streaks of diluted red behind them. If there was ever an image more pitiful than this one that didn’t come from a charity appeal, Doug has never seen it. And yet, there is still some odd aura of defiance surrounding her. She is refusing. She is saying no.

He let the door shut behind him and stood uncomfortably just in front of it.

“What do you want?” the woman asks, accusatorily. Doug blinks. He wasn’t expecting that tone of voice from her.

“Nothing, nothing,” Doug stammers. “I just wanted to make sure you were…” Okay was in no way the right word. Absolutely no way. He falls silent.

“I’m fine, Doug. I’ll be fine,” she chokes. “Will you just…” She pauses. “Will you just sit with me for a little while? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Doug edges a little closer, perching on the very corner of the bed. After a moment’s hesitation, he puts an arm around her. She rests her head on his shoulder. The dried blood falls in flakes off of her hair onto his jacket, and he frowns down at the red debris. He reaches into his pocket and fishes out a packet of tissues he’d swiped during their last trip to the drugstore.

“Here,” he says, pulling one out of the plastic sleeve. “I don’t know how much good it’ll do, but…”

Lilly takes the tissue, and her fingers linger on his for a little longer than he was expecting. An odd feeling flares up in Doug’s chest, like an immense, irrevocable tug on his heart. He wonders vaguely if this is sympathy or something more profound. He frowns to himself.

“God, how am I going to get this blood off me?” she asks, her words punctured by the scratches associated with more tears held back. Doug moves his hand to take hers, squeezing it gently. H wishes she hadn’t felt the need to stop crying, but there is little he can do about that now. He takes the small plastic bottle off the table and hands it to her.

“We can spare some water. Mark knows…” A stab of shock shoots through Doug’s stomach. He still can’t fully believe it. “He told me how to find more. And I can try to find you some soap when we raid the drugstore next. We haven’t got much left.”

“No, Doug, we need that water,” she replies. “If we run out, that’s it. We’re dead. We can’t afford to waste a  _drop_.”

“We’ve got other things to drink, Lilly. You can’t wash your face with Mountain Dew.”  _Too soon Doug. Way too soon._ Lilly shoots him a furious stab of a glare. “Sorry.”

She takes the water bottle and the pack of tissues. She washes her face with dextrous movements, taking care not to smear the blood across her face any further. Doug feels the odd tug again. The dirty tissues accumulate on the floor, and Doug sweeps them into a pile with his foot, vowing to take them out later once Lilly’s feeling better, or wants to be left alone.

Once her face is free of blood, he squeezes Lilly’s hand again, and he is almost surprised to feel her squeeze back.

“I can’t imagine what you’re dealing with right now, Lilly,” he says, gently. “I mean, watching someone die is bad enough, but when it’s someone you know…” He quails under Lilly’s glare. “Yeah, okay. I know.” There is a moment’s silence. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” she replies. “No, I don’t.” She turns her face inwards, so it is angled towards his neck. “I want you to shut up.”

It isn’t until Doug feels her lips on his skin that he realises what Lilly actually wanted, but exhaustion has taken its toll on his reaction time, and by the time he is in a position to do anything, she has already worked her way up his jaw and lightly tugged his earlobe. He turns his head around to say something, and that’s when their lips meet.

For a second, a weird, blissful second, Doug’s mind goes blank. His eyes close involuntarily. White noise fills every corner of his mind. The odd tugging sensation in his chest returns in full force, accompanied by the vague realisation of what it actually was. His tongue explores her mouth. He is only slightly aware of his hands moving up, caressing her hair. For a second, everything is perfect.

And then reality returns. Everything pours over the floodwall in a crushing maelstrom of realizations and memories, and he realizes he can’t do this. More importantly, he doesn’t know if  _she_ can do this. He pulls away from the kiss. In the split second in which his eyes are open and hers aren’t, he sees her follow him back. Then her lids lift, and the spell is broken completely.

“Lilly…” he begins, but he hasn’t quite got his head around the rest of it yet. She blinks, as though he has caught her off guard, but after a second she is back.

“What is it?”

“Lilly, I…,” Doug stutters. This is easily the most delicate situation he has ever been in, and he doesn’t want to mess it up. “I think you’ve rushed this a little.”

Lilly scowls.  _Crap._ Trust him to screw it up. “I know what I want, Doug, okay? You don’t have to coddle me.”

“I’m not. I just…” He kicks himself mentally. “Just think about this for a second, Lilly. Are you sure this is what you want and not just some by-product of what happened today? I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.”

Lilly glares at him for a longer moment than Doug is comfortable with, but finally her gaze softens, and she drops her eyes to the bed sheets.

“Listen, Lilly, if this is what you want, I will…well, firstly, I’ll vault the fence and sprint to the drugstore and back to pick up birth control, because let’s face it it’s far too early in the relationship to even think about having children, especially considering the…” He stops himself rambling. That was easily the worst thing he could have said. “But I don’t know that it is. Not now, at least.”

Lilly nods. “I do want this Doug. I really do.” Doug grins and leans toward her. But a hand on his chest holds him back. Lilly looks at him apologetically, and he knows exactly what’s coming. “But you’re right. Not right now.”

She rests her head on his shoulder again. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry, Lilly,” he replies. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about Larry.” She stiffens a little against his body, but makes no attempt to draw away. “I’ll shut up again.”

A long, peaceful silence passes between them, which ends when Doug makes the mistake of yawning widely. Lilly sits up.

“You should probably go to bed,” she says.

“That’s the second time I’ve been told that tonight,” Doug replies, but he takes her advice. He stands and gathers the dirty tissues from the floor. “Are you alright to be on your own?”

“I’ll be fine, Doug.”

Doug leaves her there, on the edge of the bed, and just as the door shuts, he hears a quiet sob escape her lips.

In a world of technology that broke down with the slightest provocation, Doug had never felt useless before. There had always been something that needed fixing, some virus to get rid of, some wire that had come loose. And when everything  _was_ working, which was very rare, he was always busy building robots, updating his blog, or playing computer games. Even after the dead started walking, he could always find something worth doing. But lately, Doug has slowly been realising just how useless his skill set really is. What good is a detailed working knowledge of electronics when there is no electricity to fuel them? For the first time in his life, Doug has been wishing that he hadn’t holed up in his bedroom most nights on the computer, because he has realized that however good he is with  _things,_ he is almost completely clueless about how to help people.

The door clicks open again behind him. His head whips round, and there Lilly is. She stands in the doorway, sombre, but when her eyes meet Doug’s she manages a small smile.

“I never did thank you,” she says. And then he’s staring at wood grains.

Doug places the dirty tissues carefully into the old barrel they’re using for waste. Looking back on it, he saved a few lives today. Using a laser pointer, no less. Lilly feels a little better for tonight. Ben feels welcome. He might not be able to do anything about the bandits, but thanks to his repairs on the camcorder, the others are forewarned at least. And all that is down to him.

Doug smiles to himself. As he does, a small, but uplifting thought runs through his mind.

_Maybe I’m not so useless after all._


End file.
